


Drowning

by DistantStorm



Series: Never The Right Time [3]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Relationship, steelponcho, the Farm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 02:49:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16507931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm
Summary: Zavala charges a vandal over a cliff, into a lake, in full armor. Suraya knows how to swim, wears light armor, and knows CPR. He sinks, she swims, there are feelings.





	Drowning

It sounds like his ears are ringing, like a grenade’s gone off. His chest hurts. Did he fall on one for the civilians? Wait. A mental check of all four major extremities confirmed everything was in place. The aching and slightest pull of the link he and his Ghost shared confirmed that no, he has not died, and yes the light is still gone.

He was also… cold?

Yes. But no, that wasn’t quite right.

Wet. He is cold because he is wet. Why is he-

Oh.

Right. He’d tackled a stealth vandal that had gotten the drop on them to prevent it from killing one of the members of their patrol group. Off a cliff. Into the lake below. The almost frozen lake. It is not his most impressive moment, but certainly there have more grievous situations.

He opens his eyes blearily; It takes several times for them to actually focus on what’s happening above him. They widen monumentally. He does not move. He cannot move.

* * *

 

Suraya Hawthorne is straddling him, on the ground in the woods. Her hood is down, and her short hair is edging over her eyes, midnight black contrasting with amber irises he wants to sink into. She’s focused hard on his chest, where both her hands are primed and waiting for… something. Her hands are warm through his sopping undershirt, so his chestpiece is… somewhere. She’s panting, out of breath. Her cheeks are pink. She is a masterpiece.

More importantly: She is also wet.

It is not the worst sight a man could wake up to, he thinks, instead of the rational ‘why am I in this situation’ that he should be. She inhales shakily, swipes the back of her hand across both eyes, and abruptly clambers off when she notices him staring at her face.

He thinks her lip trembles, but she schools her expression into a fierce glare. He realizes that he’s actually incredibly grateful that he’s wearing a codpiece, because they are not alone, and really he has no idea what in the Traveler’s name is happening, but that was a vision he’ll never forget.

“I need ten,” She all but shouts, stalking off into the woods. No one says a word on the subject, instead waiting for him to catch his breath and gather his bearings. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that he nearly drowned if he doesn’t remember the how of getting back to land, and the fact that he sees one very suspicious Hunter Vanguard lurking in a nearby tree does nothing to make him feel better.

There’s also a rope tied around his waist.

Right. His armor is heavy, and he’s not light to start with. He wonders how many of them it took to pull him out of the water. They are uneasy but glad he’s alright, and the thought doesn’t occur to him until he’s almost back to the Farm that none of the other members of their group are wet.

\-----+++++-----

She scoffs as she throws her wet poncho over the large drying rack next to his red sweater. “Stupid Titans and their stupid death wishes,” She grumbles, not paying any mind to anyone else around her as she retreats to the barn.

In her mind’s eye, it’s cornflower colored lips and grey skin with no aura, and fingers snapping off armor even though she can’t feel the ends of each tingling digit. It’s water as cold as winter and shaking that comes from her chest and radiates out, it’s cold but not cold to blame. It’s panic-

It’s the burn of her lungs as she knows she can’t breathe but has to tie the knot, has to do something because she can’t pull him out of the water by herself, she’s not superhumanly strong. It’s three sharp tugs and a firm kick off and his head knocking into hers and a tight arm around his middle and please don’t die on me and-

It’s dragging him with her to the grass and clearing his airway and pinching his nose and opening his mouth and sharp breaths into it with a hand over his absent heartbeat. It’s a fist twisting in his sweater before she realizes this just might be the way the world ends.

It’s a sob when she pushes down hard enough to break his ribs and breathe, damn it and more breaths on his mouth and more compressions and rinse, repeat and finally - finally - he coughs it out and breathes and - and - _fuck_ , just fuck, she loves him-

Suraya realizes with a few blinks that she is looking out at the Shard, the creepy purple light of it radiating even in the night, that her feet have taken her to the roof of the crumbling barn, even pushed herself up through the reinforced rafters. She sighs, and pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around herself. She’s still cold and wet, and she probably should have changed, but that’s something she’ll berate herself for later. She just needs to be away from everyone. Needs to breathe.

Doesn’t want to focus on the Hunter and the Titan walking out to the fireside, or the fact that the Hunter -  _stop it, Cayde_  - is already looking up at her and drawing Zavala’s attention her way. She purposefully curls up tighter and turns away, with a humph that’s swallowed by the ambient noise of the Farm below. She sighs. Hopefully she’s putting out the vibe that she does not want to interact with anyone because honestly all she wants to do is have a good cry about things so she can bottle up her feelings again and shove them right back down into the dark pit of other things that she refuses to think about because she’s responsible for the greater good of the countless thousands of people who can’t afford for her to stumble over feelings or anxieties or inadequacies and-

These people deserve far better than her.

\-----+++++-----

Cayde slaps him on the back - a good thump without his chest armor there to deflect the blow from the mostly metal and silicone Exo. He doesn’t wince, but it isn’t exactly comfortable. His chest still hurts a little, but it doesn’t hurt to breathe, and his lungs don’t feel like they’re half submerged in water anymore, so all is positive on the horizon. That and his head finally feels clear. The first few hours were a little hazy, but they told him to expect that when he’d begrudgingly allowed a medic to check him out. He was to take it easy - as if that would conceivably happen - but mostly to consider himself a lucky man.

“So,” The hunter says, raising an eyebrow in a questioning smirk, “How’d it feel to receive the kiss of life?”

His brows furrow. “I have no idea what you mean.” And he truly does not.

The fire crackles and spits as Cayde looks up over at the barn and back. “Really? You don’t know what that means?” The irritated nostril flare and shake of his head egg Cayde on. “CPR, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation… you catching what I’m throwing down? Poncho was pounding pretty hard on your ribs. I’m surprised she didn’t break any.”

Zavala casts his eyes over toward the barn, where Cayde had pointed her out a few moments ago. She was facing away from the fire, toward the pale light of the Shard. It always looked like the moon was full here, because of the discarded piece of the Traveler looming in the distance.

“She-”

Cayde chuckles. “Yeah. Full on mouth-to-mouth, buddy. Couple rounds, actually. You should’ve taken advantage and played dead a little longer.”

The Titan hisses. “Nothing about that was playing, Cayde.”

“Oh, I know,” He says, with a look that’s all Hunter cunning. “That’s why she ‘took ten’ and ran off after.” He shrugged, almost bragging, “I totally followed her. She was too distracted to realize I had, screaming to the wilderness about ‘that fucking asshole, who does he think he is,’ and ‘stupid Titan who does stupid Titan things and tries to get himself killed.’ Honestly, I think she likes you.”

“I think you’re mistaken.” There’s a cold edge to the Commander’s statement that brokers no argument.

Cayde looks at him for a solid ten-count, before leaning back against the bench and turning his gaze toward the fire. “Yeah. Maybe I am.” He pulls out a flask from his vest and takes a swig. “Still, at least you got a smooch today.”

Zavala’s eyes can’t possibly roll any harder. “Yes, because I was not breathing.”

“Minor details, compadre. Minor details.”

\-----+++++-----

She drops down from the rafters silently. Everything is silent, the Farm quiet in the pre-dawn hours. She manages to retreat into the Farmhouse without interruption, slipping into the bathing quarters and soaking herself in lukewarm spray. When she’s finished and can no longer smell the stench of lake water on her, she steps out and dresses in a spare set of clothes. Her poncho isn’t worth worrying about right now. The only things worth worrying about are her bed and the inside of her eyelids.

Or, at least, that’s what she thought until she laid eyes on the armor-less Titan sitting on the edge of her bed. Her eyes darken.

“What are you doing here?” The irritation in her voice is palpable.

He doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. “I came,” He croons in his low baritone, “To say thank you. You saved my life.”

She shrugs. “Not a big deal.” The fact that she doesn’t make eye contact completely negates the validity of her words. “Anything else?”

A sideways pull of his lips to the left is the only indication that he’s here for something besides the obligatory thanks for her actions.  He sighs. “I almost died today. For good.”

“I was there,” She whispers, nodding, seeing it in her mind’s eye. “I know.”

He looks up at her, leaning her left hip against the door frame. “We could die tomorrow,” He says.

She laughs. “You’ve just now realized you’re mortal? Aren’t you a bit late to the party?”

“I know I do not have the Light to revive me,” He mutters. “But, I was not prepared to recognize what that might mean. There might not be other opportunities to-”

“I see. This isn’t a conversation we should be having,” She says, crossing her arms.

“Hawthorne - Suraya, listen to me-”

“Stop it, Zavala. I’ve already told you.” She shakes her head, her lips tightening to a thin line, “We can’t.”

He stands, his wide shoulders shadowing most of her, his frame back-lit by the lamp in her room. “If this all ends tomorrow,” He whispers, looking down at her lips and back to her molten umber eyes. “If this is the only chance we get-”

“This is not the time.” Her fingers are squeezing her elbows now, her body tense. “Let it go.”

“And if I do not?” He cocks his head to the side, arcbolt blue eyes all but sparking they’re so bright and heavy on her. “You continue to say that we can’t, but what you do not say is that you do not wish to.”

She can only glare at him. She is not denying it.

He has her, and she knows he knows it. His brow raises just slightly, in a little quirk that’s almost haughty. She stares him down, but he advances, hands on her hips, splaying, fingers pointed toward her tailbone. It’s not a tight grip, but she does not move away.

“Answer me. If this all ended tomorrow-”

“Just shut up and kiss me already.”

“No.”

Her startled eyes look up to his. She looks like she’s about to sputter, and that pretty blush is back. “Answer the question. If this is the only chance we get,” He pulls her flush against him and she gasps. He is all muscle. Not that she didn’t know that already, but it’s hard to focus with so many hard planes against her, “Wouldn’t it be better to come clean? Leave nothing unsaid?”

“I am not someone you should go around falling in love with.”

He rears back and moves his hands from her hips to her cheeks, tipping her head up to ensure eye-contact. “Let me be the judge of that.”

She sighs. “You’re not going to let me out of this, are you?”

“Tell me that you do not feel the same and you are free to go.”

Her eyes flutter closed and arms come up to cup the back of his head. “I can’t,” She admits quietly.

“I know,” He hums as he tilts his head to the side and captures her lips with his. It is very tentative and gentle, a chaste, small thing that brings sweet, dragging heat to their bellies and up into their chests.

Suraya draws back, breathing just the tiniest bit heavier. His eyes are glazed with something different, something she saw that night when she was sick. It was something that matched the subtlest hints of a smile that isn’t actually a smile. She loves that look on his face. Something about it just makes him so handsome that she almost hates him for it.

It’s that thought that brings back all the ugly, half-repressed feelings of earlier. Her eyes flick up to his eyes and then his lips and suddenly she’s pushing him into a kiss, her forwardness sparking a move backwards on his part into the bedroom, and the next thing she knows, she’s sucking on his bottom lip and hovering over him - he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs almost straddling his lap.

“You almost died today,” She says with something akin to awe. “Fuck,” She curses, when the familiar burn of tears starts in her nose and behind her eyes.

He chuckles, ready to diffuse her anxiety. “Luckily for you -  _ahh_ ,” The words die in his throat when she lowers herself on top of him, rocking forward in one motion. The friction of her pelvis on his has the desired effect, and she scrambles to grab his shoulders and push him down to the bed, mouth dragging along the line of his jaw as she returns to his lips with tongue and teeth. “ _Suraya_ ,” He groans into her lips. No, he thinks, when she bucks harder against him, that is not what he’s aiming for. They need to slow down. He had no intentions of instigating this, but by the Light does it feel incredible. “Suraya.” It takes some effort, but he manages to still his hips from their fluid motion against hers - he did not even know he’d started - and his voice is even and not laiden with strain from her efforts.

She leans back, giving him room to speak.

“You do not have to-” He pauses. “I did not mean-”

“If this all ends tomorrow,” She reminds him of his words, umber eyes so beautifully unguarded for once, flicking back and forth as she focuses, enthralling with gaze alone, “And we don’t get another shot at this-”

The realization is not lost on him as Titan strength rears its head in the form of steady hands against her ass and suddenly he’s standing with her legs wrapped around his hips before he lays her down, sinking her into the old mattress. For all his power, it’s startlingly gentle, infinitely tender.

He undresses her like he’s unwrapping a present. It’s easy enough - her chestguard thankfully abandoned before her shower to save them the hassle - and it takes no time for him to have her bare beneath him. He leans out of a sizzling kiss just long enough to remove his shirt and when she bites her lower lip, her eyes ablaze with desire as they rake down his bare chest, he can't help but smile.


End file.
